45. Chapter Forty-Five

"Miss me?" Rafael laughs into the phone.

"Maybe," I admit.

"Marriage not working out as well as you thought?"

I roll my eyes, not giving him an answer. "How's your mother?"

He sighs. "She's as good as can be."

"What does that mean?" I lean forward in my chair, resting an elbow on my desk.

"It means the cancer has spread to surrounding organs and there isn't anything they can do."

"Fuck. I'm sorry, Rafael. What can I do? Do you need anything?"

"No, but thank you."

"I can call some doctors."

"And delay the inevitable? I don't want to sound morbid, but I don't want her suffering…"

I get what he's saying without him having to say it. He doesn't want her to suffer. He'd rather not put her through more testing and more doctors just for them to prolong her life a few weeks only for her to be in pain or not have the best quality of life. I get it.

"I respect that. It isn't an easy choice, but I respect it."

"Thanks, Enzo. How's it going over there?"

I shake my head. "My wife is currently being punished for refusing a request."

He laughs. "All ready?"

"I don't imagine it to be the last."

"You're usually right when it comes to that, so I believe you." He clears his throat and says, "Have you talked to her about us?"

"We haven't done much talking."

"Oh?" he asks cheerily.

"Not like that. We've not spent much time together."

"You should change that."

I like that he's on board with her and I being together without using it as an excuse to leave. I appreciate that he wants me to talk to her about us so this can be a normal thing, because it's what I want too.

"I should, but she's not interested."

"So make her interested."

"I'm working on it."

"Well, work faster." I can hear the smile in his voice. "Take her out to dinner."

"It's Wednesday."

"Dinner tastes the most delicious when it's unexpected, Vincenzo."

"You feeling okay?" I ask, not sure what's gotten into him. His mood is better than usual.

"Just be the suave Italian bad boy I know you can be," he answers instead.

I huff out a laugh. "Italian bad boy, huh? Is that what won you over?"

"Nah. Your dick won me over."

"Let's hope it works on my wife the same."

"Bye, Enzo."

"Bye, Rafael."

I put my phone on the desk and stare at it.

I should ask her to dinner. It would be nice. It's early enough she has time to prepare, and it's not like she has anything planned for the night. I move through the house in search of her. My phone rings, but I ignore it. Whoever it is can wait.

I find her in the theater, curled up with a blanket on the couch with a bowl of popcorn beside her. There's a movie playing on the screen I don't recognize and looks like some cheesy romance I'm not interested in. She glances up at me, gives me a sour look, and turns back to the screen as she reaches for popcorn.

I move to the side of the couch, shoving my hands in my pockets and stare down at her.

"Have dinner with me tonight."

"We have dinner together most nights you're home," she says boredly, shoving a handful of popcorn between her gorgeous lips.

"I'll rephrase. Let me take you out to dinner."

She freezes, slowly turning her attention to me.

"Out to dinner as in leave this house?"

"Yes."

"You're not joking?"

My brow furrows. "Haven't we been over this already?"

"O-okay. When? What do I wear?"

I smile. She's so cute when she's flustered. If only she'd be like this more instead of the cocky brat she's turned into. Though, if I'm honest, I do love taming a brat, so I won't complain too much.

"Be ready for six and wear the sexy little dress you wore to the club."

Some men don't like their wives or their women to show too much skin. I'm the opposite. I like to show off what's mine because I know it's mine. And I have no issue killing any man or woman who steps out of line and thinks they can take from me.

"I can't," she blurts. I raise a brow. "I mean, I can't because I don't have it, not because I don't want to."

"Where is it?"

"When I got home Sunday morning, I caught it on something, and it ripped. So I threw it away."

I nod, rubbing my chin. "Choose something similar then."

Her smile turns into a grin. "I can do that."

I nod and turn on my heel.

"Enzo?" I glance at her over my shoulder. "Do you like my hair up or down?"

"Down, angel. Always down."

She's late.

It's 6:02 and I'm itching to pull my phone from my pocket and call Jordan to see where she is.

Who am I kidding? I'm itching to spank her ass for being late. Especially considering she's probably done it on purpose to annoy me.

Which is the exact reason I'm not going up to her room to see what's taking her so long. I won't give into her, and on the off-chance that isn't the case, going up there to punish her will result in us not leaving the house. As sexually frustrated as she is, I've got it worse.

I reach for my phone when she emerges from around the corner. My chest constricts when I take her in. The black material of the dress hugs her body like a second skin. The long-sleeves are an intricate lace that matches the upside-down triangle on her chest that shows a lovely amount of cleavage, the end of the triangle reaching her belly button.

It's sexy and classy, reaching mid-thigh. Her heels are nude, matching the little purse she's holding in her hand. Her hair is down, shiny and wavy. She walks down the stairs gracefully, despite the tall heels, and when she stands in front of me, my heart skips a fucking beat. This is my wife. My fucking wife.

I give her a once over, not at all trying to hide my approval. I want her to know I want her. I'm not embarrassed by it. I'll embrace it. Maybe the sooner she realizes this is real, she'll give in.

"You're gorgeous," I breathe out, instead of chastising her like I wanted to.

She beams up at me. "Thank you. I'm sorry I'm late. My hair took longer than I thought it would, and I wanted it to be perfect."

I don't miss the unsaid for you that should be at the end of the sentence. I see it in her eyes. She wanted it to be perfect for me.

I hum a sound of approval. I suppose I could let it go.

With my hand on the small of her back, I usher her toward the door. Antonio and Rocco are already outside waiting by the car. I normally don't take both of them with me when going to dinner, but considering everything going on, it's best I over-prepare.

We make our way to the car, I help her in, and as we reach the gate, I notice how her eyes look around as if she's trying to figure out how it works.

Is my little angel still planning an escape?

I smirk as I look away, knowing there's no way she's getting out of here unless I let her go. So she can try all she wants.